


call it dreaming

by sunnydaisy



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: All Human AU, Casual hooking up, College AU, F/M, Friends With Benefits, I have No Excuse, it's mostly just 4000ish words of porn, until they catch feels, with a dash of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnydaisy/pseuds/sunnydaisy
Summary: The first time, she tells him to not get his hopes up.(2020 KC Awards Nominee - Best Smut One Shot)
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 39
Kudos: 195





	call it dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was “drunkenly confessing feelings” + "friends with benefits & both people catching feelings” and I swear, it wasn't supposed to be this long (heh).

**call it dreaming**

The first time, she tells him to not get his hopes up. 

He’s in the shower after and she’s weighing her options—use his toothbrush ( _ew_ , a girl has standards) or squirt a bit of toothpaste on her finger and hope for the best. “You know this can’t happen again, right?” she calls out over the sound of the water hitting the tile. “Beks will seriously freak.” 

“So don’t tell her,” Klaus suggests before pulling the shower curtain back a fraction. “Spares are under the sink,” he says with a nod towards where she’s gripping his toothpaste a touch too hard. “Unless you’re feeling like going again?” An eyebrow arches up invitingly. 

“Dream on,” she retorts, squatting down to open his cabinets and finding stacks of dental pouches sitting neatly next to— “Why do you have _tampons_ in here?”

He gives a low chuckle that zips straight down her spine and sends her lower back arching just enough to make her blush. “What can I say,” he demurs, “I was a Boy Scout.” 

Scowling, Caroline grabs one of the pouches and yanks the toothbrush from it with more force than necessary. “Whatever,” she grumbles. 

—

The second time is not her finest hour. 

Her _stupid fucking ex_ shows up at Rebekah’s Halloween party with his _stupid fucking_ beautiful new girlfriend, and they look so _fucking_ adorable in their Scoops Troop costumes that Caroline can’t stand to be within twenty feet of them. So she hovers by the punch bowl and glares down into the red fruity drink that she had spent two hours mixing that afternoon. 

“If you’re not careful, your face will stick that way,” Rebekah says lightly from her elbow. She’s examining her nails and pretending, Caroline’s pretty sure, to not notice how Matt Donovan’s fingers are lingering a little too long on his date’s back—Lauren? Lorelei? Lorena? Hell, Caroline’s lost track. 

“Bite me,” Caroline retorts and the look Rebekah shoots her is a strange mix of sympathy and annoyance. 

“Just shag someone,” she suggests idly, as though she doesn’t _really_ care if Caroline takes her advice or not. “Best way to get over someone, etcetera. How long has it been, anyway?”

“A month,” Caroline says without thinking, and Rebekah’s eyes widen, then narrow. 

“You _bitch_ ,” she says without any real heat, her eyes glittering. “Who? You didn’t tell me about this!”

And Caroline can’t very well say _your favorite brother_ , so she shrugs and mumbles, “Just some guy in a bar.” It’s not entirely a lie—she _had_ run into Klaus in a bar. She’d run into him at a bar, kicked his ass at darts, and let herself get fully swept up in that charm that all of the Mikaelsons seem to have in spades. 

Though she doesn’t think Rebekah will see it that way, should she find out. 

Rebekah isn’t mollified, but instead of pursuing it further, she pulls out a half full bottle of vodka from behind the collection currently lined up on the granite bar top. “Here,” she says, letting a steady stream of it flow into Caroline’s cup. “Have a good time, darling.” 

She knows from experience that it hits fast, Rebekah’s good vodka, so she takes her time, taking small sips and interspersing it with fistfuls of Halloween candy. But then someone turns on _Thriller_ , and Tyler is now making out with his beautiful new girlfriend, and Caroline has to _escape_.

The hallway leading to Rebekah’s bedroom is empty, with all the partygoers currently gathered around a game of beer pong currently tied at three cups on each side. Caroline gratefully pushes the door open before stopping in her tracks. 

“Oh,” she says, momentarily stunned into stillness. “You.”

Klaus looks up from his phone and sends her a grin that makes her stomach twist. “You,” he echoes mildly, and she gets a glimpse of his dimples. 

She places her half-empty cup gingerly on the dresser before sitting not quite next to him. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

“I’m very stealthy,” he says lightly, setting his phone down and leaning back on his hands. She can feel his eyes on her. “What are you supposed to be, love?”

Her cheeks heat at the endearment, and she almost replies with _a mouse, duh_ before checking herself. “Rosie the Riveter,” she says, holding up one arm at a ninety-degree angle and pretending to flex. “Y’know, the whole _We Can Do It_ , World War Two thing?” She drops her arm and shrugs. “Didn’t have to buy anything and the hair’s the hardest part.” 

He laughs appreciatively and when Caroline looks down, she notices that his knee is nearly touching hers. “What are _you_ supposed to be?” she parrots him challengingly, eying his distinctly normal clothes. 

“Ah,” Klaus says, and he looks almost sheepish as he lifts one hand to rub the back of his neck. “She didn’t tell me it was a costume party.”

Caroline stares at him. “It’s _Halloween_ , dude. All parties on Halloween are costume parties. It’s like, in the Constitution.” 

His fingers reach up to catch an escaped curl that is currently brushing across her temple. “I’ll make a note for future reference,” he promises softly, and when he kisses her, she decides she doesn’t care that he’s probably smearing her red lipstick. 

A knock at the door sends them scrambling, Caroline pushing him into the bathroom and leaping up to check her makeup in the mirror over Rebekah’s dresser. 

It’s _Tyler_ and they lock eyes before he holds up an apologetic hand and starts to back out, saying, “We were looking for Bekah, to say goodbye, so—um. Bye?” There’s a feminine giggle behind him as the door shuts and Caroline’s heart drops into her shoes. 

And she’s over Tyler, _really_ , she is. She had been over him months ago, but seeing him with someone just reminds her of how very alone she is. 

She stands in silence for a moment longer before her eyes fall to her half empty cup. 

Half empty.

But also half full. 

Giving the quiet room a sardonic toast, Caroline finishes her drink in two swallows and heads towards the bathroom. Klaus is leaning against the sink, and she doesn’t know what look she has on her face, but his turns concerned and she can’t _deal_ with that—

“Take off your pants,” she orders and right before she kisses him, she sees both of Klaus’s eyebrows go up. He doesn’t protest, but he also doesn’t follow directions. Instead, his fingers grip her waist and maneuver her so that they switch places, her bum pushing into the counter and him crowding her, swallowing her whole. 

Without breaking the kiss, she toes off her shoes and his hands tug her leggings down. She steps deftly out of them, kicking them off and sending them flying towards the door before her fingers dive for his fly. His lips curve against hers, a smile, and she bites him. 

“That wasn’t nice,” he scolds, making quick work of her shirt buttons. She shrugs, and her shirt follows her leggings into the corner. 

“Pants,” she repeats, tugging on the belt loops. He laughs into her neck before his lips close over her pulse point and suck until she squeaks, feeling the sharp sting of a hickey. His jeans, then his shirt, join her clothes until they’re both standing there in their undies, him kissing her much more slowly than before, his fingertips tracing the place where the fabric of her panties meets the skin of her hips. 

“Thought it was just the one time,” he murmurs into the shell of her ear. Caroline can’t stop the shiver that the low rumble of his voice elicits from her. 

“Twice is basically once,” she decides and he sends a shark-like grin down at her before pushing her panties down and sliding one long finger into her. His thumb finds her clit and starts making light, practiced circles as he kisses her again. 

“Jesus,” she half moans, half gasps into his shoulder. Klaus laughs, his thumb picking up speed as her hips jump, and the sound is too self-satisfying, too _smug_ for her taste. She tries to frown at the bird tattoo dotting his collarbone, but he slides a second finger inside of her and the frown vanishes. 

She is so, _so_ close when his fingers slide out and her eyes fly open to glare accusingly at him. “So—rude,” she forces out as she grips his arms tightly. 

“Shh,” he soothes, and his hands wrap around her waist to set her up on the counter, his hips nudging her knees as far apart as her flexibility allows. For a moment, they both pause, breath mingling as their lips hover millimeters apart. 

Then—then—

The slow press of him makes her dig her nails into the skin of his back, her eyes fluttering shut. It’s agonizingly languid, as though he has all the time in the world, as though they aren’t in his little sister’s —oh God, her _best friend’s_ bathroom with a party raging right outside. 

“Stop thinking,” Klaus suggests before giving a gentle thrust of his hips and sliding fully inside of her. 

Caroline leans forward and pulls his lower lip beneath her teeth. “Make me.”

His eyes darken, and he pulls nearly all the way out of her, the tip of him just barely staying inside, all while watching her face like a hawk watches a mouse. 

“Klaus,” she whines, trying to angle her hips so that he sinks back into her, but he’s a _sadist_ for holding himself steady, and she tells him so. 

It makes him laugh. “Sweetheart,” he says affectionately, “You have no idea.” 

He steals her words away, his hips suddenly ferocious in their rhythm, and it feels _incredible_ , enough to drive away all thoughts of Tyler, his beautiful new girlfriend, and how she _so_ shouldn’t be doing this with him, of all people. 

“Thinking,” he warns again, his fingers returning to strum at her clit. 

She would smart off back to him, but there are stars dancing behind her eyes as something in her belly bends and bends and bends until— 

Klaus fucks her through it, his thrusts quick and shallow now as he follows her over the edge. 

For a moment, neither of them says anything as they catch their breath. 

“This can’t—” she begins and he holds a finger to her lips to silence her before kissing her gently. 

“I know,” he says.

It’s strangely disappointing. 

—

The third time is—well. 

She’s up late re-working the closing paragraph of the penultimate chapter of her graduate dissertation, wondering idly just how obvious it would be that she searched a thesauruses for synonyms of _grasp_ instead of just reusing it for the fourth time in just as many sentences when her phone buzzes.

 _Klaus (Bekah’s Brother)_ : Come over. 

Another quick buzz, followed by a dropped pin that makes her snort. She’s been Rebekah’s best friend since freshman year—she’d been to his apartment plenty of times, the most recent of which included a long look at his bedroom ceiling. She doesn’t need a freaking _pin._

A third buzz and a picture of a half-eaten pepperoni pizza appears, followed by what Rebekah had named the Slutty Look Emoji. 

She smiles in spite of herself, charmed. Her phone vibrates again, this time with a picture of two beer bottles, one opened and clearly his, based on the golf tournament koozie; the other apparently hers, with the cap still firmly on. Shaking her head, she hits reply and texts back, _persuasive._

His reply is immediate. _I can be._

Caroline doesn’t reply right away, and a fifth text lights up her phone several minutes later. 

_Come over._

The clock on her desk reads 12:38 am, and she decides that maybe some pizza, beer, and good sex is exactly what she needs.

Twenty minutes later, she’s knocking on his door and he’s handing her the unopened beer bottle. There’s a soccer game paused on his tv, tied at what’s she sure is a thrilling score of 0-0. 

“How’d you know I was in dissertation hell?” she asks as she follows him to the worn leather sofa, snagging a coaster from the kitchen on her way. She settles in next to him, folding her legs underneath herself as he hands her a plate with a slice of pizza. 

Klaus grins at her and taps his temple. “Sixth sense,” he says. “I can hear a damsel in distress up to twenty kilometers away.”

She makes a face at him over her beer. “Kilometers,” she mimics teasingly, tipping her bottle at him in mock salute. “Jolly good, mate.” 

He groans dramatically, his head falling back against the sofa. “Take it up with your government, sweetheart.”

“Oh, they tried. We’re a very stubborn people.” 

His fingers are lazily tracing her knee over the denim of her jeans. “I would have never guessed,” he deadpans.

And to her surprise, he doesn’t make a move, just gestures to the untouched plate in her lap before shifting so that he’s facing the tv screen. The game resumes, its volume low, and for a moment she doesn’t move. Did he just...want to hang out with her? 

The thought makes her insides feel warm and squishy, but Caroline pushes it down. They’re hooking up—nothing more, nothing less. 

But still. He invited her over to just have her around. 

It’s nice. 

She nibbles at her pizza while glancing around his apartment. There’s a flag with a Saint George’s cross hanging on one wall, a pair of well-worn soccer cleats strewn haphazardly in one corner, and she can’t help but shake her head, a small smile fighting its way across her face.

He catches it and raises one haughty eyebrow at her. 

“You’re just so... _English_ ,” she tells him with a small laugh. “I feel like my ancestors are about to reach out and bitchslap me from the grave if I don’t like, pour some tea down a drain or something.”

He laughs outright at that. “I don’t actually have any tea, but I do have some very expensive gin that could perhaps substitute.” 

“Your sacrifice has been noted,” she says, putting the plate down on his coffee table. She debates her next move briefly before thinking _fuck it_ and moving so that she’s straddling him. His hands come up to grip her ass. “Don’t let me distract you,” she adds, the words barely a breath against his ear. 

Caroline kisses a path from his ear to his collarbone, pushing aside the collar of his Henley and letting her tongue linger in the dip of his skin. She hears a noise that sounds vaguely like a remote being tossed aside, then his hands are _everywhere_. In her hair, tugging her shirt off, unclasping her bra, palming her breasts, spanning the width of her back—

The world tilts and she gets a brief glimpse of his ceiling before he follows her down, leaning on his forearms and nuzzling her nose with his. She shimmies off her jeans, letting them fall to the floor, followed by her underwear, and it’s only then that it occurs to her that she is as naked as the day she was born while he is still _fully clothed._

She opens her mouth to protest this grave injustice, but he’s gone, his lips trailing down her sternum before taking a brief detour to taunt her nipple into a hard point with his tongue. And if that’s his plan, well then. Who is she to complain?

Her suspicions are confirmed when he continues his slow march down, pausing occasionally to suck love bites into the skin of her stomach and hips. It’s torture, and leaves her _aching_. 

“You’re seriously so evil,” she complains as he drops a light kiss on the inside of her thigh. “Like, so, _so_ evil. There’s definitely a statue of you in hell.” 

She feels him grin against her. “Probably,” he agrees, and his teeth scrape against her skin. 

Finally, _finally_ , he’s where she wants him, his tongue dancing lightly along her clit and Caroline is unable to hold in her moans. 

But Klaus doesn’t seem at all to mind, and remains diligent as he swirls his tongue in just the right spot until her knees shake. 

When he kisses her again, she wonders hazily if this is what she tastes like, and the thought is followed by _I wonder if he likes it._

His fingers trace loops on tops of her thighs; she thinks it might be the letters of his name, but before she can call him out on it, he’s fully sheathed inside her. 

So instead she lets him steal her breath away. 

—

The fourth time isn’t _his_ finest hour.

“Caroline,” Klaus shouts into the phone, and it’s way, _way_ too early for him to be so loud. Caroline winces and pulls the phone away from her ear, still catching every word as he continues, “You’re bloody beautiful, you know that, yeah?”

She rubs her eyes before sitting up and fumbling with the light on her bedside table. “It’s four in the morning, Klaus. What the hell?” 

There is a parade of noise behind him, the sounds of a bunch of very rowdy, very male voices, and she thinks she hears an off-key rendition of _God Save the Queen_. Jesus Christ. “I’m very drunk,” he tells her and she snorts.

“No shit,” she says, biting back a laugh. 

He doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m coming over,” he says loudly and despite herself, her heartbeat picks up. He hangs up, apparently having told her all he thinks she needs to know, and she stares at her phone in amazement. 

She had to be up in roughly ninety minutes anyway, she reasons before throwing off the covers and heading to the bathroom to wash her face. 

Not ten minutes later, there’s a heavy knock on her door, and she has to hand it to him—he makes good time when he wants to. 

He’s wearing what she recognizes as an English soccer jersey, his hair is a curly mess, and he’s clearly still very drunk. “We won,” he tells her without moving from his spot leaning heavily against her door frame. “On to the Finals, love.” 

Caroline blinks in confusion. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she informs him and he groans loudly.

“Shhh,” she hisses, grabbing him the collar and yanking him inside. With a final nervous glance around the otherwise empty hallway, she shuts the door firmly and turns to him. “What did you win?”

He grins at her, and it’s not the sexy, slow grin that she’s seen so many times. It’s _better_ —it’s silly and happy and it makes his dimples flash. She finds herself grinning back and oh, she is so, _so_ sunk. 

“You,” he says, leaning forward and letting heavy arms wrap around her waist, “are delightful, and I am absolutely _besotted_ with you.” His nose slides against her temple, but before she can react to this turn of events, he continues, “Unfortunately you cannot watch the Final with me.” 

Without missing a beat, she retorts, “I have to wash my hair that day anyway.” It makes him laugh, and she finds that she very much likes the sound. 

“It’s not _you_ , love,” he says, his face sliding down her neck and coming to rest in her collarbone. His fingers are slipping beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts to skim along her hipbones. “Deeply superstitious, football fans.”

“I’m from the _South_ ,” she reminds him, her breath catching slightly as his fingers dip lower. “I get it, trust. I had this one boyfriend—” she gasps as he finds her clit, her knees weakening enough that she has to hold onto him for balance, “—who wouldn’t wash his game day shirt if Virginia Tech was winning, all _season_ , do you know how gross that is—”

He cuts her off with a deep, sloppy kiss and tugs at her underwear. “Off,” he demands and she laughs against his mouth. 

“You’re drunk,” she reminds him, pushing his hands away. “Very drunk, as you yourself said.” He groans into her neck as she grips his wrists tightly to keep his hands from wandering. “What you need is—”

“Your legs around my neck?” he cuts in, tugging against her grasp. It sends a rush of wetness between her legs and she nearly lets go of him. “You gasping for breath—”

“No,” she interrupts insistently, shifting so that her lower half angles away from him. He frowns and she clarifies, “Or—maybe later. When you’ve sobered up. But what you need right now is water, Tylenol, and _sleep_.” 

Klaus sighs heavily, as though she’s about to march him off to the gallows, and lets his forehead drop to her shoulder. “You’re very cruel.” 

“I know,” Caroline comforts, finally releasing one of his wrists to pat his back. “Now go get a glass of water.” 

She skips her first class, choosing instead to work on her dissertation on her couch while Klaus sleeps it off in her bed. At 9 am, she hears the bathroom sink running before he finally emerges from her bedroom, his hair sticking up in all directions and wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms Tyler had left behind once. He blinks at the sunlight streaming in from her bay window. 

“Morning, sunshine,” she chirps, and he winces, holding a hand out. “Oh, sorry, is that too loud?” She makes no attempts to soften her voice. “There’s coffee on the counter, help yourself.”

When he shuffles over to sit next to her, cup of coffee in one hand, Caroline leans forward to put her laptop on the coffee table and turns towards him. “Have fun last night? Or wait—this morning, I should say.” She arches an eyebrow at him. “I’m just curious, when did you start drinking if you were still that far gone by _four am_?”

He rubs his forehead. “Midnight,” he says, his voice scratchy. “Wanted to watch it live.” He slides a glance over at her and she thinks she sees a dash of contrition lingering there. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

Caroline shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. However, I regret to inform you that you, sir, made certain…” she wrinkles her nose, “...advancements upon my person.” 

Before he can process just exactly what she means by that, she stands and gently pushes him down until he is flat on his back, her knees bracketing his hips and the bottom of her dress blanketing his stomach. “It was very ungentlemanly of you,” she continues, fingers deftly untying the drawstring of the pajamas. He lifts his hips and lets her push the bottoms down to his knees. She makes equally quick work of his boxer-briefs, and is pleased to note that his cock is already very interested in what’s happening. 

“Caroline,” Klaus says, a bit unsteadily, “did you forget your knickers this morning?”

She runs her finger down his length, watching with satisfaction as it swells under her attention. “Klaus,” she replies with a touch of deviousness, shifting so that her entrance nudges his leaking tip, “when do I forget anything?”

He makes a pained noise as she lets herself slide down him. His hands come up, and, in an echo of earlier that morning, she snags his wrists in her grip and pins them over his head. “No touching,” she scolds, rocking her hips forward and drawing a ragged exhale from him. Caroline tilts her head at him and lifts her hips so that he nearly slips out. 

“Wench,” he groans and she nods, the ends of her hair brushing his face.

“I do have a question for you,” she tells him as she slowly lowers herself back down. 

“Whatever you want,” he swears, and a small, smug part of her debates on asking for the most extravagant things she can think of. 

But instead she says softly, “Are you really _besotted_ with me?”

Klaus freezes underneath her and her stomach drops. She opens her mouth to brush it off, to tell him it’s totally fine, it doesn’t matter, that this is just sex—really _good_ sex that she’d like to keep having with him, as long as they’re totally clear on their expectations.

“Stop thinking,” he admonishes, lifting his forehead to bump hers gently. Caroline realizes belatedly that she’s still grasping his wrists, but she shuts her mouth and doesn’t let go. “Caroline. Surely you realized?”

Hope, fragile and delicate, strums a nervous tattoo across her veins. She hardly dares to breathe. “What?” 

He laughs, a delighted, disbelieving sound. “I’ve been head over feet for you for at least two years, sweetheart.” 

Her breath stutters in her chest. “ _What_?”

It’s difficult to shrug when one’s hands are pinned overhead, but Klaus manages one before he sends her a crooked smile. It flies true, and lands squarely in her heart. 

—

The fifth time, the last time, they’re caught.

“Jesus _Christ_!” 

Caroline squeaks, her fight or flight instincts kicking in and sending her diving under the covers, only just peeking out from their safe harbor. 

“You’ve been _shagging_ my _bloody brother_?” Rebekah yelps from the doorway. Klaus, for his part, just looks annoyed, lifting his head off the pillow to glare at his sister. From the sounds of it, Rebekah isn’t intimidated. “You _cancelled_ on bottomless mimosas for _him_?” 

“Get out,” he orders lazily and Caroline hears Rebekah huff before slamming the door shut. The covers rustle as he nudges her. “You cancelled on bottomless mimosas for me, sweetheart?”

She sits up, still half submerged in the sheets. “I cancelled on bottomless mimosas for really good sex,” she retorts, looking down her nose at him. The beginnings of a very smug, very male grin appear at the corners of his mouth and she adds haughtily, “Don’t look like that. Aforementioned really good sex hasn’t happened yet, so it’s looking like I made the wrong choice here.” 

Klaus sighs and sits up to drop a chaste kiss on her bare shoulder. “Well, we can either try to salvage the rest of this morning—” he raises an eyebrow at her invitingly, “—or we can go break it to Bekah that no, we will not be paying for her therapy, and yes, we are dating, and no, we don’t need her input.” 

Caroline wrinkles her nose and tilts her head as though considering. “Or,” she offers, her hand sliding south, “we could do both.” 

He kisses her, his tongue sliding into her mouth, past her teeth—

“Oi!” Rebekah shouts from the living room. “I have a lot of yelling to do at you, Caroline Elizabeth Forbes, so you best haul your scrawny arse out here, you bint!” 

She breaks the kiss with a giggle. “Oh, she’s _mad_ mad,” she whispers, and Klaus, long used to Rebekah’s tantrums, waves a dismissive hand before trying to recapture her lips with his.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about _you_ , Niklaus Mikaelson! Shagging my best _bloody_ friend!” 

With a groan, Caroline pulls away. “Full names,” she points out reluctantly. “We should probably face the music.”

He picks up her hand and entwines their fingers before kissing her knuckles. “We should get our story straight,” he corrects her, his thumb skating over the inside of her wrist.

“What’s to get straight? Boy meets girl in a bar, girl kicks boy’s _ass_ at darts, boy is _charmed_ —”

“I _let_ you win, love—”

She smacks him with his shirt. “Oh, what _ever_ , you liar!”

“But I was charmed. Thoroughly.” Klaus smiles up at her, her favorite silly smile that sends her heart pattering wildly. 

“What can I say?” Caroline beams at him. “I’m charming.”

“I’m still mad!” Rebekah calls from the living room. “And you’re both still in trouble!” 

“You know,” Klaus muses reflectively as he pulls his pants on, “I might actually miss sneaking around.”

One of his curls is sticking straight out and Caroline debates smoothing it for him before deciding that she prefers him slightly mussed. “If she kills us, I’ll see you on the flip side,” she tells him seriously. 

He holds one hand to his heart. “I’ll find you in the next life,” he promises gravely and Rebekah shouts from the other side of the door, “I can _hear_ you lot, you know!”

Right before she opens the door, Klaus winks at her, and it warms her down to her toes. 

—

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a rough few weeks in quarantine, have some gratuitous smut. 
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sunnydaisy6) and [Tumblr](https://little-miss-sunny-daisy.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
